Dew
Drops of dew, the breath of morning,
trembling on slim blades of grass—
sunlight's warming hands shall reach to
dash these tiny beads of glass.
Dewdrops cannot last nor linger,
day must rend their whispers dry.
Those we love can't stay forever
here, between the earth and sky.
Just before the new day's dawning,
when the garden's wet with dew,
I step out, one barefoot moment,
just to feel the breath of you.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
